


The Proverbial Firecracker

by ScienceOfficerWillowRosenberg (left_handed_moth)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Beer (or rather scotch) Bad, Canon-Typical Saucy Talk, Episode: s03e06 Band Candy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/left_handed_moth/pseuds/ScienceOfficerWillowRosenberg
Summary: AU where Jenny's there for Band Candy.  Written for Calendiles Day 2018.





	The Proverbial Firecracker

“I’m serious,” she said, through a mouthful of chocolate, waving Ripper’s glasses around emphatically, “you use technology to augment your natural capacities.  You. Are. A. Cyborg.”

Ripper just laughed a breathy laugh.  “Well, as long as I can still get drunk,” he said, and took a swig of his scotch.

Jenny took the bottle and drank some herself.  “You know,” she said, “that is quality stuff.”

“Does the trick.”

“I mean it.  I’ve gotten drunk off some horrible booze.  And this is not that. This is a genuine beverage here.  It’s like licking an ashtray, but, like, in a good way.”

“Yeah, ‘s pretty good,” he muttered.

“You know, Ripper, actually caring about things is pretty punk.”

“You’re a pretty punk.”  He kissed her, and Jenny could not remember the last time she’d been so excited to be kissing someone.  Seriously. Kissing was incredible.

“You think I could pull it off in class?  Jean jacket and fishnets and Docs?”

“Well, I’d pull it off after class.”

“Wouldn’t say no.”

They kissed again.  Jenny was pretty sure the needle on his Cream record was touching the label, but as he slid his hand further up her thigh she was pretty sure she didn’t give a damn.

 

******

She pulled her tank top over her head, splashed some water on her face, and considered running a comb through her hair.  She kinda liked the sex hair, though. Put on some black lipstick and too much eye makeup and it looked a little bit Siouxsie and the Banshees.

“So,” she said, emerging from the bathroom, “Let’s go out.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Ripper was in just his jeans at the moment, band chocolate in hand.

“Think you might need a shirt.”

“It’s California.”

“Hey, when we get kicked out of a bar, anything I do to the bouncer is on you.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling on a plain white T.  Good look.

They stepped out of his flat into the warm Sunnydale night.  The warm, vampire-filled Sunnydale night. Jenny didn’t care about that, though.  She felt young again, and electric. You could charge a laptop by sticking the cord in her mouth.  You could plug her into the grid and power the whole town.

“Cigarette?” asked Ripper, lighting one up for himself.

“That stuff is poison.”

“So was the scotch.  So’s all the sugar in that chocolate”

“Yeah, but those tasted good.”

Ripper put an arm around her waist.  She shivered. She. Had. A. Boyfriend.  How cool was that? She even kind of liked his music.  Kind of. Whatever. She’d get him into something real some other day.  Time to make some conversation.

“You know what pisses me off?” she said, not sure of a specific answer.

“A lot?” said Ripper.

“Teenage boys.”

“So I’ve gotta be offended now, yeah?”

“Oh, come on, I like it when  _ you _ ogle me.  It’s just, I am trying to enlighten these kids.  I am trying to get them in on the cutting goddamn edge of social and technological progress, and they think about my tight sweater.”

“I think about your tight sweater.”

“Yeah, but...dammit.  Look, you’re dating me.  You gotta fight for me, man.  You gotta get mad on my behalf.”

“Who should I fight?”

“I dunno?  The establishment?  The patriarchy?”

“Right, sorry.  I’ll fight anyone, Jenny.”

God, he was so British.  Even all rough and monosyllabic and ready to punch a guy, he kept apologizing.  It wasn’t cool. And he wasn’t listening. Guys. I mean, he was hot, and fun to drink with, but...   She put it out of her mind.

“Wanna shoplift?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

 

******

Wow, 1998 was a weird year.  Alternative was in, depending on the store, and all this stuff that made the grownups shit themselves back when Jenny finally hit public school, now it was overpriced and made in sweatshops.

Ripper got some pre-torn jeans, which was impossibly lame.  She’d snuck out a nice studded leather jacket--hey, the dead animal industry doesn’t get your money if you don’t pay for it--and some comfy dude jeans.

“Men’s trousers?”

“What, are you actually becoming a Victorian?”

He laughed.  “Just doesn’t hug your bum so well.”  Classy.

“So walk in front of me.”

 

******

At the Bronze, some shirtless dudes who shouldn’t have been were belting ‘Louie, Louie.’

Jenny sighed. “This place is lame.  How have I never noticed how lame it is before?”

“Only watering hole in town.  Except Willy’s.” Ripper smiled.  “Let’s go to Willy’s.”

“The demon bar?”

“Come on.  You’ve dealt with those before.”

Jenny’s stomach sank.  That was not a good memory.  “Not cool,” she said.

“Sorry,” said Ripper, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t at all sorry.  “Just meant they’re not so tough.”

“Yeah, shut up.  I’m gonna order another drink and forget you said that.”

She was craving something sweet.  Whiskey sour? Extra sour mix? But with Fireball.  Did sour and cinnamon go together? Well, only one way to find out.

She sipped.  That was horrible.  She downed it fast and fetched some more chocolate to get the taste out of her mouth.

She was bored.  She kind of wanted to go be on her own.  Listen to Zen Arcade for the zillionth time.  That sounded better than another roll in the hay with Ripper.

God, what was his deal?  All of a sudden he’s ‘call me Ripper.’  All of a sudden all he wants to do is screw and mumble.  Not very punk rock of him. Somehow he was lame now, even though he’d been just this aggressively English fuddy-duddy before.

Yeah.  He was lame.  Not the Bronze.  Him.

She came back to the table.

“No drink for me?”

“Buy your own.  I make a teacher’s salary.”

“Someone’s a bit uptight.  Want me to loosen you up?” He put a hand on her knee.

“God, that really is all you think about.”

“Yeah?”  He slid it further up.  She removed it.

“I wanna break up.”

He laughed.

“I mean it.  You just...suck now, okay?”

“You really mean it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, piss off then.”

“I’m staying here.  You ‘piss off.’”

“You.”

“Ugh, fine.”  She slammed her chair against the table as she got up to leave.  “Oh and one more thing?”

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

“Too bad.  Jack the Ripper wasn’t cool.  He murdered women. You’re an asshole for calling yourself that.”

And then she stormed out.

 

*******

Jenny’s teeth were gritted the whole way back to her apartment. She kicked off her shoes, put a couple PJ Harvey CDs in her player, and turned the volume way up.

She put Sheela-Na-Gig on repeat, and belted out that she was gonna wash that man right out of her hair until she fell asleep on the couch.

 

*******

She was awoken first by the sun through her blinds, then by the phone ringing.  She looked for a pillow to throw over her face, and remembered she wasn’t in her bed.

Her mouth tasted of stale spit and stale chocolate.  She suppressed the urge to throw up.

Rupert’s voice was on the answering machine.  Was he yelling or was she just that hungover?

She looked at her watch, which had left red marks on her wrist.  School was just letting out. What was she thinking last night? She was a teacher, a professional. And so was Rupert, whom she was not going to call ‘Ripper’ ever again.  She could lose her job, and that would mean losing her chance to protect the kids. That whole night was just one continuous mistake.

She wanted to check her messages, but she wanted to lie in bed with a pillow over her face more.

She got up to change into sweats and a baggy t-shirt because, honestly, there was no way she was going out of the house today.   She tried lying back down, but she just felt disgusting all over. 

She had just finished brewing some coffee when there was a knock on the door.  She shuffled her way over. It was Rupert. Dressed in tweed again, which was maybe a good sign.  She told him to come in, making a mental note that if he did anything remotely like what he did last night, she’d kick him out for good.

“I told Snyder you were ill.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“I’m so sorry, Jenny.”

“Good start.  Keep going.”

“Is it going to sound like a horrible lie to say that you and I--and, in fact, much of the city’s adult population--were under one of Ethan’s spells?”

Jenny groaned.

“Yes, that rather captures the mood.”

“What did he--?  You know, I don’t care.  I hate him. I really do.”

“I suppose I do as well.”

Rupert had his fuddy-duddy sentence structure back.  That was a good sign.

“Gonna be honest, I really sort of hate that you ever had anything to do with him.”

“Yes, well, I feel the same.   Far more so in the past two years.  I’m...ashamed that I let him get anywhere near you.” He reached out a hand.  She took it.

“So did he make us into total idiots?  Was it a big jerkification spell?”

“He made us into the people we were as teenagers.”

Jenny blinked.  “So, that was really you?  Like, once upon a time?”

“I’m afraid so.  You knew a bit of that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but still.  No offense, but you were the worst.”

Rupert smiled.  “I suppose I wasn’t the best.”

“How was I?  I mean, I know how I was, but how was I to you?”

“A bit brilliant.”

“Are you just saying that?  I was totally full of myself.”

“Yes, well, that’s rather the teenage condition. You were still quite the, er, proverbial firecracker.  Far too good for me.”

Jenny grinned and squeezed his hand. “Damn right I was.”  


End file.
